


Let's Take the "B" Out of Bromance

by BlasphemousBalderdash



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, JeanMarco Week, M/M, Olympics, copious use of the word "fuck", mild acrophobia, too many references to the song Rude (you know the one)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousBalderdash/pseuds/BlasphemousBalderdash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2- Olympus [In which Jean is an Olympic runner after the Polymarchos's son]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Don't Care if Monday's Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really awful at constancy and the song doesn't rly have anything to do with the piece but let's see how this goes!  
> Jean's POV  
>  **~ day 1 - zero gravity ~**

_Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too_

_Thursday I don't care about you_

_It's Friday; I'm in love_

**Friday, I'm in Love - The Cure**

* * *

I haven't the slightest idea why I decided to sign up for this shit, honestly. I mean, I know why I applied to work at the annual Trost County Fall Fair. Anybody who doesn't live under a rock knows that this is huge and if you work here you don't really get any sleep and they got you here setting up and running booths for a while but afterwards you've got free admission to everything and that the food is to die for and the rides are pretty fucking colossal and that the whole town gets hella into it and whatever. But that's not what I'm getting at. Not really, anyway.

No, I'm bitching about my current predicament; being in line for Trost County Fair's newest attraction. The Omni-Directional Mobility Gear, otherwise affectionately known as Hanji's-newest-metal-titan-of-a-death-trap by those of us who watched them construct it from what looked suspiciously like scrap metals from older rides, is this absolutely terrifying hunk of metal cages and gears. I haven't been on it yet, and I most certainly didn't plan to -- especially not after watching the test run at 4 AM after countless hours of an overly-enthusiastic engineer's screeching and loud booms and clanks drowning out Mr. Berner's worried shouts to his mentor. It started smoothly, without a single groan, and actually looked really good, all things considering.

And then I saw what it was capable of.

The cages at the end of the long, thick metal arms were spun at ridiculous velocities I wasn't sure were under the safety code's regulations before the center pillar rose a couple dozen feet and began tilting the arms so that they, eventually, had been rotated viciously in just about every direction. It looked like some sort of gizmo that was for people who were being tested to see if they could be astronauts. You know, those G-spinny-thingies? Yeah. But with like eight cages for two people each.

It's hilarious how many people have rushed to that big-ass contraption. The line hadn't died down all day, and I'd hoped it'd stay busy for the entire duration of the fair. Of course, when you're friends with the engineer themselves and several other fair employees, lines aren't a problem. I hadn't shared that with anyone, though. It had stayed a secret for the first weekend of the fair. I was safe.

Then Monday rolled around.

Eren found out. (Fuck his connections to the ride area supervisor and the operations manager.) He wasn't working the fair, but he knew very well that I was. He approached me before our morning classes a few hours ago.

* * *

"You been holdin' out on us, Kirsch-stingy!" I hear the cry before I see the face and mentally brace myself to deal with a dose of Jaeger before 7 AM. I had like seven coffee this morning. I should be alright. I'm good.

The sky seems to agree with me, though, that it's too early to be alive. It's a dull blue; overcast in the slightest, really not as bright as mornings usually are. Bless.

With a roll of my shoulders as well as my eyes, I turn to see an overly-giddy brunette power-walking to the max in my general direction. "Meh."

We're both headed to the Social Sciences Building for our classes (he's taking Social Justice or some shit; I'm here for General Ed), so there's no use in trying to brush him off. I slow my steps long enough for him to catch up and he grips my arm something fierce, shouting excitedly about how he didn't get a chance to ride the ODMG over the weekend because he'd wanted to tackle the rest of the fair first but he couldn't wait until later when I would fast-pass the group in-- _woah, Nelly._

"Excuse." I hold a hand up, coming to a halt. "Who said I'm gonna have the time t'get you guys in?" Eren's doofy grin is still very much prominent on his face.

"Don't play dumb, Jean. It doesn't suit you." The hand on my arm wiggles a bit and he pulls me so we're walking again. "Levi told me workers get to go on the rides pretty much whenever, and that they have a set number of people they can take with them if they want. You in particular could get like five of us in there with, like, less than a five minute wait! Honestly, I can't believe I found out from Levi before you; what's up with that?"

I zoned out halfway through his little speech, not bothering to argue. It wasn't until he shook my arm again that I realized he'd stopped talking. "I wasn't plannin' on goin' on that ride; it's not worth all the hype everyone's givin' it."

"Are you scared?" That... That was right on the money. I forget how easy this guy reads me. I kinda hate him a little bit for that.

"Fuck no. I jus' don't see what's so great 'bout bein' whirled 'round in every direction like fifty feet up in the air 'til you puke and die."

A pause. He's trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Too bad for him that there's no way in hell I'm gonna say yes. If he and the gang want to go, they can wait in the line like every other suicidal asshole out there who isn't trying to pressure some friend worker into letting them in fa

"Marco said something about wanting to go on the ODMG, too." Fuck. A side-glance reveals that, yes, Eren's giving me a shit-eating grin right now. Wonderful. I growl and train my eyes forward, picking my pace up. At this rate I'm gonna be late to class; not that our professor really gives a shit.

"..So?"

"Sooo, you aren't gonna force your hella obvious crush to wait in line for more than an hour only to sit next to some stranger while he screams his freckles off, are you?"

"..M'not crushin' on Marc'." I mutter, but I'm pretty sure everybody knows I've got less-than-acceptable-non-platonic-really-non-bro feelings for my best bro. Well, everyone but him, apparently. That was fine by me.  ~~It wasn't fine by me.~~

Jaeger doesn't grace me with a response. He just shakes his head and steps ahead to pull open one of the doors to the building. I open the other door and keep walking. Pretty sure he just hissed at my back like an angry cat or a rapidly-deflating beach ball, but I'm too far gone to care. His ridiculously illogical argument is bothering me.

All I hear is a loud, "See you at the fair!" before a door slams and I'm left alone stalking down the hall to my class.

I try not to think about how happy Marco would be if I strode right on up to him and pulled him into the front of the line and sat next to him in one of those compartments.

Key word: try.

* * *

I cannot fucking believe I let Eren talk me into this with nothing but a half-assed, shittily-worded argument.

Of course, I did get to see that smile I was hoping for after my fair shift ended and I located the freeloaders standing around waiting for me beside the ride and it was so much better than I'd imagined, so there's that. It was easy to ignore the towering hunk of metal while Marco's smile lit up the darkening sky.

Fuck. I'm in too deep.

I walked them to the special entrance for fair employees as we engaged in comfortable chatter. Well, I mean, they're chatting away happily. I'm pretty sure I look like I don't really want to be here.

At least I'm not the only one that doesn't really want to be here. Bertl looks pretty fucking sweaty -- or maybe he's just wearing too many layers again. (He has Reiner's hand to hold, though.)

...

Okay, so maybe I really am the only one that doesn't want to be here. Who am I kidding? Even Armin looks pumped (though I think he's just channeling the tense air of determination surrounding his own best friend; I'm pretty sure that if Eren were to scream right now he'd go Super Saiyan, to be honest).

Next to me, Marco's absolutely glowing with excitement. He was definitely nervous, though. He keeps rubbing at his nose and tugging at the collar of his dorky Superman letterman jacket. You can't fucking fool me, Marco Bodt. Only you can. Stop fucking sending me mixed signals; you're killin' me. Damn. Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

~~I'm gonna marry you anyway.~~

Up close, the metal framework is so much larger than expected. The screams from way up in the gyrating cages are faint. I don't know if that's good or not, because it'd make me more nervous if they were any louder than the rumbling of the machinery, but the fact that they're so high up they're hard to hear is also pretty terrifying.

As soon as they come down, it's gonna be our turn.

Please no.

The ODMG lets out a low wheeze as the arms return to their horizontal position and slow down, lowering them rapidly, then slowly, down the column to the base. Marco smiles at me, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid.

"It's our turn, Jean!"

Tell me something I don't know, Marky-Mark. I pull my hands out of my Jack Skellington hoodie and trudge on.

I step forward to flash the petite operator my ID and lanyard and we're allowed in to choose our coffin -- er, cage. I grab Marc's hand and pull him away from one ("That kid that was in here totally pissed himself Marc' please don't sit in there") and take him to a nice, clean, blue one that didn't smell like piss or vomit. I am so glad I don't have any late night shifts until closing night, or I'd be put on Levi's clean-up squad in charge of sanitizing these things.

Next to me, the freckled idiot that's unwittingly dragged me headfirst into this situation is trying vainly to figure out how the straps on this thing work. The fact that there are straps running down our legs and up our torsos is really worrisome, but I don't really have time to try to escape before the operator comes around checking to make sure we're strapped in properly. She smirks once she sees me, giving me a little wave before turning to Marco to help him with his straps. Fuck you too, Petra. I don't need your help.

I'm pretty sure I've got it down by the time Marco's buckled down; it's actually not as hard as it seems if you follow the straps and which way they go and where they buckle, but the strawberry blonde pops up on my side and gives the chest straps a hefty tug, tightening them to the point that I find it a little bit hard to breathe. Oh wait; I was struggling to breathe before I even stepped within a hundred feet of this son-of-a-bitch. With an overly-cheery "Enjoy the ride, boys!" she barks an affirmation to someone standing beside another cage and runs away to her little control tower, getting the machine ready to start up again. As a rumble makes the cages tremble, I wonder if this is how I'm going to die. I turn to flash a shaky grin and thumbs up at my companion and he smiles back at me, though if he notices how clammy I am and how pale I'm pretty sure I look, he doesn't mention it. Bless his soul; he knows I'm not here for my own enjoyment, but for my..  _"friends."_   He probably thinks I'm just being a cool guy and helping out the group. (Speaking of the group; fuck them, I hope they piss themselves.)

It isn't long before we've begun spinning and I'm clinging to the straps above my shoulders with a white-knuckled-death-grip and Marco's melodious laughter starts to get drowned out by the creaking of the metal box we're in. If anything, at least I'll die listening to the best laugh ever. After what feels like an eternity we pick up the pace and we're sitting (or kinda lying) parallel to the ground now, and I'm feeling pretty fucking weightless. It's really scary, but it also feels... Pretty fucking awesome. I mean, yeah, my insides're being sloshed around in ways that aren't natural and I'm screaming my lungs out, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins has my heart beating faster and everything outside the cages is smeared in a really weird way and the lights that are starting to come on to illuminate the fairgrounds are really colorful and I cannot help but to enjoy this.

It doesn't help that beside me Marco's grinning like a madman, laughing and whooping every time we're jostled in a new direction, and then upside-down.

Regret it? To an extent, yeah. I _did_ let Eren, of all people, talk me into this. It's worth it for this view, though. Marco's shiny black hair is standing up ridiculously as I'm sure mine is, and his face is flushed a bright red from exhilaration and having an excessive amount of blood rush to his head while being spun like we are. I might be crying a little bit. If Marco sees me subtly tilt my head to wipe my eyes on my upper arms, he doesn't say anything. Well, I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't even if we weren't rapidly rotating several stories above the ground right now.

I wonder if he feels weightless, too.

I also wonder if Hanji stole parts from NASA's testing grounds for astronauts, because this still felt like a fucking G-spinny-thingy.

Something grabs my hand and I hear a phrase that won't ever leave my mind.

Marco.

He is holding my hand.

"Jean! I kinda really like you!"

Fuck.

The smile on my face physically cannot get any wider and I'm pretty sure I'd look frightening to some children waiting for their turn in line.

"I fuckin' like you a lot too!"

Marco's expression mirrors mine and I interlace our fingers while Marco raises our arms, letting out another loud whoop. I whoop too.

Yeah. Worth it.

* * *

 

Stepping out of the cage is only kinda worth it.

Unbuckling the straps is the easy part. Stumbling out like a pair of dizzy drunkards leaning on each other is not. I thought we were in bad shape, but it looks like Reiner tripped and fucking face-planted trying to step down from his compartment and Armin's angrily shouting about corn dogs and extra-large fries whilst holding up an Eren with a very upset stomach. I can't help but to perk up a bit and hold my head a little higher as Marc' and I proudly swagger out. (re: Marco manages to walk semi-straight while I take very large steps and almost fall down the stairs back to ground level. Tell no one.)

Marco doesn't let go of my hand for longer than a few seconds at a time the rest of the night.

I still haven't lost the weightless feeling. Is walking around feeling like you're suspended in zero-gravity normal?

 

 

 


	2. Nothing Left to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Olympus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read through like 4 Wikipedia articles to get a feel for this ffs  
> There's a bit of an age difference but it's never explicitly stated how old they are uhh  
> Marco's nearing adulthood so he's like 16/17-ish and Jean's a young bachelor but given that he's an Olympic runner I pinned him at about 28/29 ish  
> I wanted to be kinda historically accurate I mean obvs there are aspects that aren't but yeah this kind of relationship wasn't uncommon back then  
> dw btw all they do is kiss and it isn't even graphic so yeah  
> oH AND it shifts from Marco's POV to Jean's POV near the bottom; you'll probably be able to tell where it switches  
> p.s. the polymarchos is a military general so ye  
>  **~ Day 2 - Olympus ~**

_Who knows how long_  
 _I've been awake now?_  
 _The shadows on my wall don't sleep_  
 _They keep calling me_  
 _Beckoning..._  
 _Who knows what's right?_  
 _The lines keep getting thinner_  
 _My age has never made me wise_  
 _But I keep pushing on and on and on and on_

**Imagine Dragons - Nothing Left to Say**

* * *

 "If I bring back an olive branch, will you help me?"

His golden eyes burned with such intensity that it would not have surprised me if he had managed to set something in his line of vision aflame.

I'd come to the temple to pay my respects to the Gods as usual, not really expecting anybody else to be out and about at this hour. The moonlight casts its cool light on everything, bathing the earth in a blue-grey glow. His eyes are bright against the paleness of his face.

It's beautiful. He's beautiful.

Upon seeing that I'd stumbled in upon somebody requesting an audience with none other than Aphrodite herself, however, I discreetly slipped out and pretended I hadn't just witnessed Jean, of all people, asking a favor of the goddess of love. Despite my burning curiosity as to what he could possibly have been asking of her, I knew it was none of my business. As a bachelor in his prime, he was probably asking for help in attaining someone's favor; though I fail to see who he could possibly be having trouble in attaining as he's a respectable Athenian athlete.

It shouldn't matter to me. As the youngest son of Athens's Polemarchos, I have my own duties to attend to. The Olympiad will soon be upon us and I've been asked by the Governor's counselors to aid in the preparations because they believe I've traits of leadership like my father does.

I tell myself that Jean's romantic endeavors don't matter to me in the least. Maybe doing that repeatedly will make it true. He's got nothing to do with my romantic future, and I've nothing to do with his. My father will find me a suitor; I know who he's got in mind. It's not Jean.

-x-

In my dreams, I keep revisiting that night, but I don't dare trying to seek answers. I know what it would mean if word got around to my dad that I'd been snooping around on Jean's tail. I may be a young fool, but I've no suicidal tendencies. He knows I've fancied the blonde man ever since I knew what it even meant to fancy anybody.

Father doesn't want me to become involved with an athlete; successful or not. He wishes to wed me to the Governor's daughter once I reach adulthood.

She's a very sweet girl. Petite, about my age, not to mention blonde and fair-skinned like a certain someone.. But the way that she so anxiously awaits the upcoming chariot races and religiously attends the preparations for the particular event leads me to believe that there's much more to this girl than meets the eye.

The blue in her eyes always shines brightest when she talks about the intricacies of the chariots "Ymir" creates.

I don't think it's the chariots that are responsible for putting the twinkle in her irises.

-x-

This morning, the city of Athens hosted the opening celebrations of the Olympic Games. This afternoon we displayed the artwork brought in by artisans from every corner of the world. Everything ran smoothly, without a hitch.

The Polemarchos has been anxious all day. I don't know why. These competitions are a time of peace.

I don't ask why he paces around his chambers, angrily mumbling to himself. I certainly don't follow when he stalks rapidly to the temple.

I do not stick around to watch him ask the Gods what exactly their plans are for his youngest and why they're doing this.

I don't. I run as fast as my feet will carry me. I don't want to hear any of it.

Something grabs my arm. Before I can shout or fight back, I am shoved against a wall in an alleyway not far from my home. Wide glowing eyes meet mine and for a moment I almost miss the soft apology as the grip on me is loosened. Those pools of molten gold are so alluring I might just drown in them if I'm not careful.

But maybe drowning in them wouldn't be too bad.

Jean's a lot taller than me. Stronger, too. It's to be expected. He's a champion runner; he's won races on two other occasions that the Games have been held.

I'm just the Polemarchos's youngest son, being polished and trained to be a politician since my brothers before me are more than capable of taking over Father's position.

We're from different worlds; I've only observed him from afar. When did he notice me like this? I thought we could be considered friends though we didn't talk much, but that didn't stop my pining. I don't know what I've done for him to lay his eyes on me at all. He has so many beautiful people at his disposal. Why me?

None of it matters when he asks if he can kiss me. The flush on both our faces as his lips meet mine are wonderful shades of red.

It leaves a tingling, warm sensation in my cheeks and lips that can only really be described as "pleasant".

-x-

Jean's competing today. I don't sit up in the area reserved for my family. I wade through the rambunctious crowd, working my way to the front row and watching with rapt attention as the runners line up at the starting point.

It isn't long before I spot Jean and begin shamelessly taking in his lithe runner's body, allowing my eyes to linger all over his nude glory as much as they please; his smooth yet rugged physique is intriguing and, for a moment, I wish I had a chisel and a block of pure white stone to capture his essence. It's when he bends over to stretch before his run, I realize that even the greatest sculptor's handiwork would not be able to do the real Jean any justice.

I barely hear the signal for them to start running. Why, I barely even register the crowd's roar surrounding me.

Why would I try to focus on anything but the majestic sight before me?

Time seems to slow as Jean's legs propel him with such graceful bounds that he almost looks like some sort of wild animal proudly romping about in its natural habitat. He pulls ahead of the other faceless runners early on, though there's no mistaking that he panics when one brunette from the pack behind him suddenly picks up his pace and gains on him.

It's a close call. The race has devolved from an event with multiple, supposedly athletically-skilled men into a one-on-one final sprint between the pair and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, fully aware that I'm going to have a sore throat later from so much cheering. I can't find it in myself to care.

If possible, I care even less about the looks I get when Jean crosses first and I bellow praises at the top of my lungs.

His bright eyes scan the area I'm supposed to be seated with my family and I feel my heart swell when he visibly shrinks upon not seeing me.

He's so precious; I don't know how to handle him.

It's a large drop from the front row seats to the stadium floor below, but it's nothing I can't handle with the right footing. Hand, hand, swing over, ledge, crouch, hand, hand, drop, release. I'm not a runner, but I do believe I could have easily overtaken some of the other runners competing with the speed at which I launched myself at the blonde who had yet to notice me.

It wasn't the most rational decision, no, I'll concede that much. Consider this first, though.

I did not care about any consequences upon seeing the way Jean's sharp features almost literally lit up when he turned to see who had just screamed his name and he saw me.

Oh, Gods. I think I might be in love.

There was no hesitation from either of us as I flung my arms around his neck and tugged him down for a kiss, right then and there.

In front of, not only Athens, but essentially the entire world.

In front of my the Governor, his counselors, my siblings.

In front of my father.

When Jean's arms wrapped around my frame, I'd never felt safer.

I'll deal with the consequences later.

-X-X-X-

"If I bring back an olive branch, will you help me?"

For a second I was proud of myself for managing to keep my voice from wavering while I spoke to a goddess, but I reprimanded myself for doing so. Not every God is a fan of mortal vanity and pride.

I can barely bring myself to look at the ethereal divinity she radiates, instead determinedly gazing at a point over her shoulder.

It's dark out. I came out while the moon was high in hopes that I wouldn't be walked in on making a plea to Aphrodite.

She doesn't like that I'm avoiding eye contact. I shift my gaze to meet hers.

I am spell-bound.

Her eyes flicker to the side and back almost imperceptibly before her thin-lipped smile softens.

"You do not need my help."

-x-

He told me I cannot marry his son. The Governor's daughter will.

I know very well who the Governor's daughter is.

I also know that she's absolutely captivated by Ymir; the best damned chariot maker in this neck of the woods. No amount of courting will ever have her looking at Marco the same way she looks at the freckled chariot maker.

There's a presence beside my shoulder, adding power to my words. For a second I see a flicker of fear in the Polemarchos's eyes.

Strange. I didn't think an expression like that belonged on such a powerful man.

It gives me the courage to ask again.

He doesn't look at me when he nods distractedly and asks me to leave.

I pretend not to notice the sound of two separate footfalls; one hasty and the other carefully-paced as I stand in an alleyway near Marco's home.

I make it a point to notice when a single person's panicked steps approach.

His lips are very soft and sweet. I imagine that this is what ambrosia tastes like.

I am addicted.

-x-

I did not see Marco when I looked up, victorious. The thought that he hadn't shown up nearly killed me right then and there.

Dark thoughts swirled through my tired mind and I almost decided that maybe I should just leave. Then I heard my name.

The speckled boy in his white tunic looked absolutely overjoyed, and I couldn't help but to mirror his expression.

When our lips met I reveled in the sweetness, not caring that spectators were squawking about our display of affection.

My arms around his felt at home.

Whatever came next, I didn't care. We could take the world on if we tried.

Thanks, Aphrodite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stumbles in a day late waving this shit around with a starbucks in their other hand yelling about how i'm not late but i totally am

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing please tell me


End file.
